


A Personal Letter to Fear

by Psychiccupid



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anxiety, Fear, Letters, Personal Writing, Personal letter, Therapy, ask me to tag, personal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:14:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26417020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psychiccupid/pseuds/Psychiccupid
Summary: My therapist gave me homework to write a letter to Fear, whatever that looked like to me.Right after posting my first ever fanfiction since 2008, this is what I wrote.((Should be general for most audiences. Talks a little bit about mean parents and speaks about religion in a negative light for one sentence. I do not think there are any triggers in here but I will tag as necessary.))
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6





	A Personal Letter to Fear

**Author's Note:**

> Context:   
> I have been timid and scared of most things my whole life. Fearful of friends, teachers, family, cars, grades... etc.  
> As I've gotten older I've learned how to navigate it but I'm finally at a part in my life where I'm ready to break free.   
> I want to act, draw, sing, write, and dress up without caring about what others think of it.   
> And here is how my therapist suggested we do it.
> 
> I am posting this because I love it, but if you're reading I hope you enjoy it, too.

Dearest Fear,

You’ve been in my life longer than I can remember, and I have one of the most incredible memories I’ve seen. Maybe you’ve always been there, maybe something caused you, but, now, you’re here and you won’t go away.

If you were tangible, what would I tell you? Would I comfort you and make you feel welcomed? Would I think of you like family, or a longtime friend who we’ve shared many moments together? Would you break my heart as someone I could never understand? Would I hate you with every fiber of my being and cast you off, never to be seen again?

Is this relationship toxic? Yes, absolutely. The fact that I’d even consider comforting you proves this to me. Can you imagine the person I’d be if you weren’t always there parenting me? A happy, risk-taking person. A person who makes things simply because they want to, a person who shows it off, shows _themselves_ off, without anything holding them back.

In this play reality where you are a living thing, do you get angry at me for being happy? Do you completely shut down at the first signs that I might be running away from you? Do you do everything in your power to keep me from being a person who no longer needs you?

But why _did_ I need you? What have I always been so scared of? Myself? Maybe. It’s possible. There’s parts about me that I don’t like, parts I don’t want people to know. But that doesn’t bother me. I know how to control that side of me. My Parents? Probably. They are mean, ruthless. Their care is correction. Their care is telling you how to behave and act in accordance to a set of principles you never agreed to. But I’m not scared of them, I’m scared that I am forced to love them. These are not new feelings. Then what about society? Well, duh, isn’t everyone? But I know it’s worse for me. I’ve been against societal standards since I was young, _very_ young. I was a smart, tiny quiet kid obsessed with Japanese shows about small creatures fighting one another. I switched from a normal public school to a classist, secretly-religious, one because of how smart I was, but I think I was scared even before then. As I got older that fear of society only got worse you know. Insulted online for being a child, insulted offline for being awkward and ugly and _different._

So then… what about now? What about now where I’m jaded and faded and empty? Should I feel comforted that you’re still here next to me, hand on my shoulder. Should I be furious that I’m too powerless to ignore your words?

I know. I’m an expert at psychoanalyzing myself. I know what I see in this letter. It’s questions. It’s all questions and no answers. Are you the one who keeps me from answering them? Am I not asking the right ones? I can introspect. I can dig deep. But… here I am 25 years later… and I still can’t tell you that I’m scared of no longer being scared. I’m scared of losing this pitiful person who tries their best but never succeeds. I’m scared to eat healthy – because of how my mom and others will react when I lose weight. I’m scared to post works – because once people see my offline persona they’ll know how much it’s an act. I’m scared to change – because I spent 25 years being myself – and that self couldn’t function in this society comfortably. I want to. I want to be happy. I want you to go back to a simple safety caution. I want you to tell me ‘don’t go go-kart racing because you’re scared of cars’ not ‘don’t send your friend a happy birthday message because you’ll phrase it weird and they’ll hate you’! I need you to function, I need you for caution and defense and safety. 

But I do not need you controlling me. I don’t need your rules. 

You can see it right? You can see how I’m already slipping away. Posting photos. Posting drawings that look like a fourteen year drew them. 

And yesterday, _yesterday_ , I posted the final of two chapters of my first ever fanfiction. I posted it because I loved it. I posted it because I wasn’t scared of the reactions I would get. I created it, I treasured it, _I wrote that_ and I posted it. 

You’re losing your reigns, fear, and one day, I won’t even remember your name.

Sincerely,

Fuck You,

Ezra Williams


End file.
